Then a young maiden approached and, with courage, held Ishar’s hand. Following her, others began to approach and touched Ishar’s hand, arm, and shoulder.

Ishar allowed it to happen.

What’s the point of saving myself when I’m on the verge of death?

Ishar reached out his hand to as many people as possible. He felt various textures—smooth, rough, calloused, and hardened—coming in contact with his hand and then slipping away.

Perhaps, without even realizing it, he delayed the moment of boarding the prisoner transport carriage.
However, the carriage gradually approached nevertheless, and he eventually had to leave everyone behind and face the shabby carriage alone.

Ishar, who had been gazing at the carriage with a melancholy look for a moment, finally seemed to make up his mind and stepped onto the platform.

The carriage door closed. The people who had been holding onto his hand and clinging to his body now shook his hand.

Ishar silently observed them through the iron bars, then turned his head.

“We will depart now, Your Excellency.”

The polite voice of the coachman echoed through the open front window. Ishar did not respond.

The carriage slowly accelerated within the escort of the guards, and Ishar closed his eyes.

The wind entered through one window and exited through the other, brushing against his silver hair.

It was a refreshing and warm spring breeze.

A day too precious to die.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

The atmosphere in Mariard Square was not much different from the entrance of the prison.

Those who pitied the one to be executed today and those who held animosity were mixed in a similar ratio. Both sides had increased in numbers.

However, the central path was a bit wider, and the spacing of the guards blocking the crowd was much tighter.

Thanks to that, Ishar could move forward without stopping.

The ominous sight on the platform caught his attention.

Two rectangular pillars of reddish-brown formed a sturdy structure, and the diagonal blades connecting them like a handrail gleamed with a faint silver light.

Just looking at it sent shivers down the spine. That was when…

“Murderer!”

A sudden shout reached him, and something followed, hitting Ishar and falling to the ground.

Soon after, he felt a viscous liquid flowing down his sideburns.

By the people’s reactions, Ishar could tell that the liquid was blood.

“Uh… there…”

A nearby palace guard hesitated, licking his lips with a troubled expression. His face reflected the dilemma of whether it was right to treat someone facing execution. Ishar wiped the blood away with the back of his hand and moved on as if nothing had happened.

Whether the guards strengthened their vigilance or not, stones did not fly towards him again. Instead, curses were thrown.

“You wretched human trash! Devil in the guise of a saint!”

It was the same person who had thrown stones at me a while ago. Ishar seemed to know who it was, but he didn’t turn his head.

Instead, he looked in the other direction.

The VIP seats.

Observing the elders in their dignified attire sitting side by side, Ishar scoffed inwardly.

“Anyone would think they came to see a play.”

Although some wore grim expressions, there were more who didn’t. Especially the elders of the Grand Duke faction even had satisfied smiles.

Ishar’s lips twisted.

“They will have high expectations again when I die. Next in line should be the emperor.”

Even without looking, it was obvious.
Ishar stared at a man who seemed to wish for that more than anyone else.

A man sitting at the center of the elders, quietly observing the situation. Disgustingly, a man with a more sullen face than anyone else.

“A cunning human.”

Ishar thought, eyeing Duke Montaner, the magistrate.

He had set up the pieces so that, regardless of which side Ishar chose, it would benefit him.

If Ishar lived, a well-trained squad of a hundred soldiers from the Valdemion family would come under his control. If he died, Hersis would lose his right-hand man. He had nothing to lose.

Nevertheless, it seemed more advantageous for him to live in the eyes of the Duke.

“Do you want to live? Shall I give you another chance?”

Not necessary.

Ishar answered with his eyes and turned his gaze. Before he knew it, a platform stood tall in front of him.

Ishar carefully climbed the stairs and stood in the position facing the courtroom.

Although there were three judges, there was not a single person among them who seemed favorably disposed towards him.

Especially the judge in the middle was the patriarch of a family that could be considered a lifelong enemy.

With such figures overseeing his trial, it was only natural for him to receive a death sentence so quickly.

“Listen, Ishar Rodem Nielgrid of House Valdemion.”

The judge, sharply glaring at Ishar, spoke. Contempt was already evident in his voice.

“You have stoned to death the virtuous head of the fairy-affiliated House Claude Allens, Claud Alans.”

‘He wasn’t virtuous, and I didn’t kill him.’

Ishar thought so, but he did not interrupt the judge.

“Furthermore, despite clear evidence and irrefutable circumstances, you denied the crime and showed no sign of remorse. This is undoubtedly a crime that everyone condemns. Therefore, taking into account your contributions to the Empire and the royal family, the sentence is to be decapitation, which is a more lenient punishment than the original imperial law, Article 57, Paragraph 2, would have warranted. Receive your punishment duly, repent before the gods when you go to the afterlife.”

The judge who finished the verdict raised the wooden hammer. And the moment he was about to bring it down.

“Wait.”

“…?”

The judge’s gavel stopped midair.